Meilleurs Amis
by Nightscrawlearth
Summary: He’d feel completely lost without it. It was the one constant in his life – the one thing he could count on being there for him. AU. Remy LeBeau for Scrawlerearth. By Fourpawsonthefloor.


He opened his eyes to the weak morning light coming through the tattered peach coloured towel covering his window. Blinking rapidly he waited till his eyes adjusted, stretching a little under his thin blanket.

Rolling out of the bed - which was really only a simple mattress laid on the floor - he scooped up his worn and grubby stuffed elephant, the lumpy body of it pleasantly warm against his bare chest.

He played with it for a minute - poking at the remaining beady black eye, bobbling it around on the thread that barely still held it to the shabby fabric. He buried his face into the soft yellow fabric of it, smiling as the heat of his breath was reflected back to him. It was his dearest possession…his friend.

Hugging it tightly to his chest he tiptoed to the door of his room, peering down the hall.

Silence.

Well and good then. Provided he was quiet Maman an' Papa shouldn't care what he got up to. Sliding down the hall he was careful to skirt discarded wrappers and other bits of trash, knowing any resulting noise that he may make wouldn't be well received. As he neared the end of the hall he froze at the site of two large bare feet poking over the edge of the tattered sofa. He held his breath, hoping that he hadn't woken his father, before a reassuringly loud snore assured him that he hadn't.

Slipping past his pere's slumbering form he entered the kitchen, eyes quickly darting around it, seeking. He knew from past experience that any available foodstuffs were more likely to be resting openly on the countertops, rather than being stored in the cupboards. It was rare that they had enough food to warrant putting it away.

Today there was less than usual. Maman would often make big pots of rice and red beans. However there weren't any leftovers in the fridge – just an old pot in the sink holding some scummy water and a few dried rice bits clinging to the edge of it. He managed to cobble together a makeshift breakfast of the heel of a loaf of bread with the last scrapings of a jar of peanut butter.

Carefully running his fingers around the jar to catch the last morsels of it, he mused as he licked them off. It didn't look too late in the morning. He could only hear the odd car whooshing by on the street…so it had to be fairly early still. There shouldn't be that many people around…right? Did he dare?

His rumbling stomach made his mind up for him. Re-entering the living room, he silently glided through it, keeping more of an eye on the sleeping man than where he was stepping. He nearly yelped as he stepped down and felt a sharp piercing pain in his foot. Biting his lip hard, he looked down, tears rising unbidden to his eyes as he saw what he'd stepped on.

Hobbling awkwardly out of the room to get out of his father's line of sight, he slumped against the wall in the hallway, reaching down to pluck the discarded needle and syringe out of the ball of his foot, tossing it away from him with distaste. Dieu he hated needles! Maman usually picked them up…but sometimes they'd get all silly and forget to do it.

A bright drop of blood welled from the small wound. He watched it as it grew, finally surrendering to the pull of gravity to run down in a bright stream down his foot. He wiped it away quickly before it could reach the stained carpet, pinching the small hole until it stopped bleeding. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried to his room – not much time if he was going to get this done.

He reluctantly stashed his elephant beneath his bedding, not wanting to part with it, but unwilling to risk its loss or damage. He'd feel completely lost without it. It was the one constant in his life – the one thing he could count on being there for him.

Tossing a threadbare shirt on, he made his way to the back door, easing it open. He grimaced at the noise of the hinges squealing, holding his breath for a moment or two, and then made good his escape. Maman may say that she didn't want him out…but once he was out – there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't likely that she'd wake up this early anyway. He'd take the scolding if there was one. Hopefully it wouldn't be on an empty stomach.

He stole down the dusty alley, careful to stay to the fence line and in bushes or behind things. It had been pounded into his head that he was different – scary. People wouldn't like him. It's why he was taught to always hide in his room whenever anyone came to the door.

He'd made the mistake of trying to approach a boy a few weeks ago. The kid – a year or two older than him he'd guessed - had been playing in his yard with a ball. It had looked fun. So he'd gone up to him shyly and said hi. The boy had taken one look at him, shrieked bloody murder and ran inside of the house. Remy had barely had time to get hidden again before the boy's dad had run outside with a bat. It had just cemented everything he'd been told.

He was different. Bad. He had to keep hidden.

So now he only snuck out early in the morning or late at night – when there was only the odd person around that could possibly see him. It was getting late for it today – the sun had probably been up for an hour already. But he was hungry. Really hungry. He would just have to hurry.

Wandering from one garbage bin to another, he quietly rummaged through the half full trash cans, finding the odd heel of bread and some semi spoiled fruit and vegetables that he could pick the bad bits out of. He even scored a handful of 'dirty rice' that had been chucked late enough the previous day to not have spoiled yet.

Finally content, he slipped back home and in through the back door. He stopped at the sight of his Maman who was just coming out of his room.

"Remy Etienne LeBeau!"

He crouched down into himself a bit, eyes downcast. Damn. He risked a quick glance up at her as she walked towards him. Maman looked…weird again. As if she wasn't all there.

"Y' were out again weren't y'?" he took his chin in her hand, forcing him up to look at her. "What did I say about dat?"

He hugged his arms around his thin body. "Was 'ungry" he muttered.

"Phah. Y're impatient is more like it. An' a greedy little thing t' boot." She released his chin and used her hand to steady herself instead. "Y' still didn't answer me boy."

"Not supposed t' go out." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Not supposed t' let people see me."

"So den…d' y' want t' explain t' me why y' took it into y're thick 'ead t' ignore me?"

"Je suis desole, Maman."

She sighed gustily and snapped her fingers at his door. "Get in dere, and don't y' make a peep. Y'll get dinner when I'm good an' ready."

He watched her make her way unsteadily back down the hall. Dinner? He wondered if she even knew what time of day it was.

He dove for the comfort of his room, shutting the door behind him. Retrieving his elephant he sat on the corner of his mattress, back to the wall, cuddling the toy tightly to his chest. It felt so good. Secure. Comfortable. It never failed to make him feel better.

He brushed the worn plushness of the toy against his cheek, finally relaxing a bit, eventually venturing off the bed to play around with his few other toys.

*******

It was nearly dark when his Maman came finally to his door. He looked up from his play with his battered three wheeled truck and smiled cautiously at her. She looked steadier than before, but more tired.

"Well don't just stand dere gawkin'. Y're dinners at the table." She smiled at him and ruffled her hand through his long bangs.

Remy scurried eagerly down the hall, pausing when he saw his father sitting half reclined on the sofa.

"Bonjour Papa." He said quietly under his breath. Papa didn't like loud voices. He said they hurt his head.

His Papa turned his bloodshot eyes to him, and Remy squirmed. It was always hard to tell what kind of mood Papa was in. However this time all he did was grunt in response, picking up a chipped glass that was half filled with the brown yucky tasting stuff. Remy relaxed slightly. Papa was usually in a bit better of a mood if he had some of that to drink.

Remy walked quietly past his papa and into the kitchen, now half lit by a flickering light bulb. Spying the bowl that was set out for him on the table he clambered onto the chair, barely noticing the discomfort of the ripped vinyl cover pressing into his legs. Pulling the bowl towards him, he quickly ate the small amount of rice that it had in it. It was cold and sticky and didn't really fill him up, but he ate every bit gladly.

Leaving the dirty bowl on the table he carefully made his way past his parents who were now sitting on the couch together. They ignored him completely, too caught up in arguing with each other again. It was best if they didn't notice him when they were fighting. He just made things worse.

He quickly used the bathroom, washed his hands and returned to his room, closing the door against the increasing volume of the fight. Lying down on his bed, he cuddled his elephant tightly, stuffing it against his stomach as he curled around it.

The sudden noise of something shattering made him jump and he pulled the blanket over his head, hiding. Unfortunately it didn't do much to muffle the noise. While he couldn't make out each word distinctly, he could still hear enough of it.

"So what…

we supposed t' starve…

…ask for more?"

"He's not gonna wanna give us more…

food again? Where did d' last of it go?"

"Remy ate d' last of the rice tonight."

That sentence, spoken in his Mothers shrill voice, carried through the thin door easily enough. His eyes shot wide open in alarm. He started to tremble. Oh no…he was gonna be in so much trouble. Why didn't he just find more food today, so he wasn't hungry for dinner? This was his fault.

Papa was gonna be so mad. Papa yelled and said horrible things about him when he was mad. Demon child. Hell spawn. Freak. Remy hated those words, even if he didn't really know what they meant.

No one came to his door though; the last thing he heard was the front door slamming with a crash and his Maman's high pitched weeping. He relaxed minutely, knowing that at least he wasn't going to be yelled at tonight. Rubbing the thin ear of his stuffed animal between his fingers he slowly worked himself to sleep.

Maybe it would be better tomorrow – in a few days he was gonna be five. That meant he'd be a big boy! He'd find a way to make it so he wasn't so much trouble then.


End file.
